Daughter, Kristin Binder

Daughter
by Kristin Binder

The sun rises,
cars pass,
bikes move,
people mill around,
shops open and close,
x's mark dates on the calendar,
the world continues turning,
but not for me child, I stand still.
I am in limbo,
walking the line between what was,
and what is.
Between a life imagined,
and that which was realized.
Between youth,
and age.
Between naive happiness,
and the pain of wisdom.
I try to understand.
I try to find answers.
It is a fruitless pursuit.
There are none.
Some call you “an angel,”
“a tragedy,”
“a spirit,”
“a terrible thing that happened,”
“a victim of odds,”
“in a better place.”
They have so many labels for a life cut so short.
I just call you daughter.

:::

about the piece.
I wrote this poem just after the first anniversary of my daughter's birth and death dates. I found myself feeling both angered and in awe over the fact that while my life stood so painfully still, the world had the nerve to continue on around me. I was also wrestling a great deal with labels people were applying to Peyton's short life as a means of making themselves more comfortable with what had happened to her. They needed a neat bow to tie around this loss so that they could move on, and with each label applied, I rejected them more. - Kristin

about the poet.

When not writing poetry, Kristin blogs about mothering and grieving Peyton, as well as her struggles with secondary infertility, IVF, and the emotional ups and downs of pregnancy after loss on her blog Once A Mother. She recently completed her first novel, and is working on a memoir. She makes her home with a husband she adores, a black lab she can't seem to train, and “The Snowflakes,” twins conceived via IVF and due this Spring.